The Opelousas courier., 1887-11-12
a MINING CAMP P0sT0FFIcE.
Tired Men Walk Miles Through Snow
for letters from Home.

Tired Men Walk Miles Through Snow
for letters from Home.
Denver Correspondence Of Kansas City Journal.
It WAS Sunday evening in a Western min
ing town, and the boys were all IN from the
n maEfi Fl bnd G paeR . Sn eo Riot cheer ie ssS wi 1nniy
day, but what OF that? No matSff how gro
the storm and chilly the blast, tie p4ostotf1Ie
in a mining region Is q KIND OF a mecca 10
which ali eyes turn and all trails lead on
Sunday. Many Il time has Il miner gone ten
and fifteen miles to the nearest postottice IN
the hope Of getting a letter. Possibly a lode
hope of receiving a letter was about the My
thing that was cheering HIM up.
Strange, isn't it, how a man will go to the
postotfice week after week, and though get.
something the next mail as though he hadn't
been waiting in vain, possibly for months?
There are hundreds there waiting fof the
opening OF the postottlGfe, ana ran mo tTTo
street. It ia u motley crowd, and IN those
lines you see men whose locks are as white
az the sllyery snow that Is falilng on lntlh'
men in the prime of life, hale and vigorous,
ana others, almost, boys, all anxious for the
same tning-a letter or even a paper from
| home. And in that line you Will see women,
not wives and mothers, for the camp lsa
new one, but women of the town; and they,
too, are hopeful OF receiving q letter from
some one. From whom? They only know,
but possibly from loved ones at home, who
know not the klllu OF NE iuCS are 4Vadlh6'
| for such instances are old stories i'll the
.'Anything for me 81 is the oft-repeatcd
question. And see each one intensely watch
the clerk hastily run through the AS or Us
or C's, etc, for the name.
mo, sir"
Nothing? ?"
Nothing"
These aro the answers most frequently
heard, and every time it is given a sad and
care-wern face turns away from the window.
Iookat his face, for it tells, its own story.
And someone's he will ask the clerk to look
again, for he almost knows there must be
something for him..
Nothing" again is the reply. The miles
of trudging through the snow over the rough
mountain trails had been in vain. Blue and
dance hall that night. | wonder if some
Eastern home had thought of il i'll that light.
There is a yOung fellow. See, he smiles, too.
His letter is q fat one. Three stamps on it.
The address is q wOlnan's handwriting. Now
he gets off in a corner and stands so no one
can look over his shoulder, and reads. That
letter is from his girls and its contents he
only will know. That weather-be&ten face OF
his lights up as brigh as a May morning. q
Nowhere are letters more appreciated thsnt
in tine mining camps. Men out West, t355ino
its exciting scenes. find it irlIsome to tnoni'
O. per. They like the pick and shoy stk8m-
eager to receive letters. Thevfiad and re-
read them by their cabin fund far up amid
the mountain peaks. Out the cattle trails
the aaei eowb oGd r will oft en-, 4 tk lette I3,i in u her her
from Texas to Mop. Il. Down in the mines,
d faG nnafT fRs GzS; TTftq b,u Il tRS to old home S'' let,
tiers, anSCVhe pickering light OF the lamps
IN h Gats, reread them. And While
WHY lgns do not write, their boya are eagerly
lag ang for a letter and are rereading the
kndT one over and over again.